Rose
When the time comes to trim the climbing rose
One see’s her other face,
The strength behind the delicate flower;
Delicate my eye!
The straggly little root that was planted
Deceived big time.
One year later pretty rose fulfils her promise
Of fragile beauty,
As like an alien invader her roots grow strong
Under the earth.
She takes hold, takes nourishment, digs deep her
base
As we turn a blind eye.
The second spring see’s her spectacular growth
A proper little madam
Lapping up admiration for her youthful beauty
Budding precociously
Bursting into flamboyant flower in every direction
Rose shows her best side.
One can only marvel at her grace and elegant style
Once seen, you’re lost
Musing as to how something so fragile and delicate
Has such force.
Rose bewitches all who pass by her, her perfume
It fills the air,
Her heavy hypnotic, seductive fragrance envelopes
We submit joyfully.
Try to pass her by without stopping to compliment
And Rose will clasp you back.
She spreads her limbs, demanding total domination
Throughout summer.
Then, as the air grows cooler and the days shorten
Her radiance fades.
Her adoring public suffer too as Rose sheds her
leaves
Come summers end.
She will fight with the last of her power to stay
strong
Against the secateurs;
Grasping, clawing, as offending pruning surgery
comes
To her last season gasps
Sweet Rose gone now, as she cruelly draws first
blood
Rose Virago will fight again.
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